Chuck Vs The Shadow
by CodeNameChuck
Summary: Chuck finds out not only Fulcrum is after the Intersect, but someone else as well, someone whose motives are unknown. But can he trust those who have protected him in the past, or is his time up? This takes place after Chuck Vs. The Marlin.
1. Borrowed Time

**Chapter One : Borrowed Time**

The rain fell softly as Chuck Bartowski turned around, closing the front doors of the Buy More behind him, locking the door and setting the new alarm system. Chuck smiled. Big Mike had actually paid for the high tech security system out of his own pocket. Chuck guessed that he didn't want any more harm to come to his precious marlin.

The moon shined down, reflecting off of Chuck's Buy More ID pinned to his shirt as he made his way to the Nerd Herder. Small drops of water ran down his cheeks as he put his key into the door to unlock it. Rather than turning, however, he stood there, key in hand, smiling as he looked up into the rain.

Chuck knew that he should not be happy right now. Just two days ago, he had almost been put into a very small room with tighter security than the Buy More could ever wish to have. That threat was still there. But Chuck kind of felt like he was living on borrowed time; that every second he had was a gift. He would be able to see his sister's wedding. And Sarah… where to begin with that?

His hand left the key and he turned around and leaned against the Herder, his white dress shirt getting more drenched by the second as the rain picked up slightly. Chuck didn't notice. His mind only had room for one thing right now, and that was a mysterious blonde. A blonde who continued to amaze and astound him, and make him feel things he had thought he would never feel again, and also things he had never felt before.

Sure, the situation was complicated. Chuck accepted that. There was nothing he could do about that. He now knew that she felt strongly about him. When they were on that rooftop, when he was about to be taken away from her… Chuck almost choked up at the thought of it. Their hands had connected, but it was so much more than that. Chuck had felt their spirits, their souls, become one, and she had told him things that he had always wanted her to say, but she never had. It was the perfect moment.

Chuck knew that Sarah had issues to work through, and he knew that it would take time, and he was fine with that. Eventually, they would be together. If it had to be under the disguise of a cover, then fine, he was all too willing to do that. He knew the feelings were real.

Glancing down at his watch, Chuck figured he had better get home before Ellie sent out the search parties. He wiped his wet hair out of his eyes with his left hand as he turned around to unlock the door. Chuck heard a noise behind him, and went to turn around, but before he could, something hard made contact with the back of his head, and he fell forward, banging the front of his head off the top of the Nerd Herder. From there he collapsed, landing on the wet pavement. Now, water and blood mixed together as they ran down his cheek and painted the pavement.

A rather large, muscled man dressed in all black stood over Chuck's unconscious body. No smile graced his face. A job was a job. Setting the aluminum baseball bat down on the pavement, he reached into his pocket to pull out a cell phone. The number he needed was on speed dial.

"Is it done?" said a voice on the other end right after the first ring.

"He's out," replied the man dressed in black.

"Bring him to me. Quickly. Before anyone notices he is missing."

The man in the parking lot laughed. "You think I'm worried about anyone this guy calls a friend? They are probably all still living at their mom's house playing Xbox right now."

The man on the other end of the phone was quick and sharp with his answer. "Listen to me, if you want paid. Get him here quickly. You would be surprised what type of friends Chuck Bartowski has."

The man in black shrugged. "You're the boss. I'll be right there." He closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. Bending over, he picked up Chuck and threw him over his shoulder while grabbing the bat that he had set down, and sent off towards his Avalanche. Small amounts of blood dripped from Chuck's two wounds as he was shoved carelessly into the automobile. With a squeak of tires, Chuck was gone, as thunder and lightening joined in with the rain.


	2. Roads To Discovery

**Chapter Two - Roads To Discovery**

The road that led to the old basement was not a well maintained one. The Avalanche bumped up and down on pavement that had last been treated more than twenty years ago. Small rocks and pebbles graced it now, along with puddles from the now diminshing rain showers, and every time the car would move up or down, Chuck Bartowski's head would flop. Eyes closed in his unconsciousness, dried blood making his brown curls sticky, he lay in the back while the man dressed in dark colors pulled off the back road, and into a small field.

Jumping out of the car, the man grimaced as he inspected the damage by moonlight. His scarred fingers ran across small divets where rocks had flown up and pecked away at the paint. "Big boss man's gonna pay for that," he muttered as he walked around to the trunk. "He'd better not stiff me. Don't see how he can have the money he promised, when he's out here in the sticks rather then in the city." As the dark dressed man pulled open the back hatchet, a voice came from behind him.

"It didn't occur to you that I wanted my privacy," asked a suprisingly deep voice. The man dressed in black turned around to see his employer. The man was about six feet tall, but that was the only thing that could ever be used to describe him. He wore a tux, with black gloves to cover his hands and a black ski mask covering his head. A flashlight shined from his right hand. In the twenty minutes that the man who had kidapped Chuck had known his boss, he had never seen a inch of the man's skin.

"Just as long as I get my money, I could care less where you live."

"Do you have the package?"

The hired help turned his head and nodded at the trunk.

"Get him out. Bring him in." The boss then turned around and walked towards an old oak. Bending down he grabbed a handle that would be impossible to spot in perfect daylight unless you knew where it was, and pulled up. A wooden door, aged by years of weather swung up, unveiling a set of wooden stairs, also hurt by the conditions. Under his mask, the boss smiled, a rare thing. Some would say it was luck that he found this old church basement way out here in the wild, the perfect spot to unleash his plan, but he didn't believe in luck. He had found it because it was he who did it. He never failed. He started down the dark steps, turning back when he was four steps down to shine his flashlight in the direction of the car. "You coming?"

The large man grunted as he picked up Chuck, and slung him over his shoulder. "I don't see you carrying anything. It's dead weight, man."

The boss glared at the man he had hired, though no one could see it under his mask. "Don't drop him. He'd better be alive. I know your... track record with bringing people in."

The man smiled as he walked towards his boss. "Then you know I always do the job. And this one was the easiest I've had in a long time."

The boss started to walk down the steps again. They creaked and moaned as his feet made contact with them. "Like I said, you like to kill. Chuck Bartowski had better be alive."

"It's easier that way. But don't worry, your guy is alive." The man started down the steps, barly able to make it through while holding Chuck's limp body. "What are you going to do with him?"

"That is my business," the boss snapped as he reached the bottom of the steps and flicked the light switch he had installed. A single light bulb lit the whole room; it was not large, maybe twice the size of a normal family's living room. A large chest sat in one corner, with a table in the middle and a bed in the other corner. He turned around to see his employee was at the bottom of the steps. "Put him on the bed."

The man complied, talking as he did so. "You know, I'd like to know the name of the man I'm working for. Makes me feel better." He threw Chuck off his shoulder and roughly onto the bed, where Chuck lay haphazardly placed. As the hired help did that, he did not hear his boss walk up behind him. He turned around as he spoke. "You could just tell me your first..." He was cut off as a blade cut into his chest, piercing his heart. The man's eyes dropped to the knife, then up to the eyes of his boss, who had removed his mask. There were no mercy in those eyes.

"My name is Nicholas," he said, licking his lips. He pulled the knife out and thrust it in again, and the giant of a man fell to his knees, then hit the floor, coughing up blood as his face made contact with the hard packed soil. Nicholas stared down at him as his body stopped moving. He grabbed the back of the dead man's shirt and pulled him out of the way. "Not that I couldn't pay you, of course, but nobody can know we are here." Nicholas threw the body into an available corner, out of the way. "Not that anyone will miss you." A groan made the man move his eyes from the corpse to Chuck, who was starting to stir.

"Well, we can't have that just yet, I'm afraid." Nichoas walked over to his chest, and pulling a key out of his pocket, he opened it. Inside, among many other things, was a good sized brown bottle. Nicholas pulled it out along with a rag. Wetting the rag with the substance in the bottle, he walked over to Chuck and sat on the bed beside him. Chuck's eyes flickered, and Nicholas quickly put the rag over his mouth and nose. In a matter of seconds, he was out again.

Nicholas tossed the rag to the corner where the corpse lay. He would have to dispose of that before he allowed his guest to wake. He ran his gloved fingers down Chuck's cheek and smiled again. Today was a really good day. "I'm so glad you are here, Mr. Bartowski. You and the Intersect." Fire gleamed in the man's eyes as he put his mask back on. "We are going to have so much fun!"

* * *

Casey yawned as he drove his new car down the highway, the early morning rays of the sun shining in his baggy eyes. The lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him. Sleep was snatched whenever he could grab it, and that meant none at all last night. And it was all for nothing! He grunted, looking around at his new Monte Carlo. Well, okay, maybe not all for nothing.

He had gotten a call last night from an analyst that worked in DC. An anaylst that was high up, and knew everything that went on in the NSA. Everything except Team Chuck and the Intersect, that was. The guy was someone that anyone else would have considered a friend, and Casey guessed that Brick was the closest thing he had to one. He almost trusted him. But he had called Casey, and told him he was near LA; would he like to come visit? Brick knew Casey was on a mission in LA, and that was it. Normally, Casey would have turned him down, (he was in the middle of a job) but he thought he may be able to get some information out of Brick, mission related data, so he had left Sarah in charge of watching Chuck for the night, and he had taken off on a short road trip.

The time had been wasted. The cab out was slow and the driver smelled. And all Brick wanted to do was trade stories and gossip like a woman. Brick was Beckman's most trusted advisor, and Casey wanted to know what she was thinking. He had to know. He had questioned Brick for two hours last night without Brick even knowing he was doing it. And it had proved unfruitful. Casey had gotten no clues about what Beckman planned to do with the human Intersect once the beta Intersect was up and running. Casey slapped his steering wheel with his hand. All he knew was what Beckman had told him at Christmas. Casey was afraid that the new Intersect was close to being completed. He was even more afraid of what he would do when he got the orders to kill Chuck. Afraid of both options. This was a no win situation for him. That was why he had went to meet Brick. He was desperate; grasping at straws; something he was not used too. He had to find a way out of this. He had too.

As much as he hated to admit it, Chuck had grown on him. Like a wart grows on a big toe, a wart that won't go away, but still, a wart Casey didn't want to get rid of. Chuck had not asked for this duty. It was shoved upon him. And against all odds, the man was doing it. Starting out, Casey was sure this nerd wouldn't last a week, but he had been proven wrong. The guy was a freak of nature, always concerned about everyone else, always trying to help. Casey looked down at the gun sitting on the passangers seat. Would he kill Chuck? He didn't know. But he couldn't wait around till the orders came, that was for sure.

As Casey turned into the residental area near where Chuck lived, he saw a sign for hot dogs, and Walker came to mind. There was another problem. She was an extremely capable agent, especially for a female. She was better then most males, actually, but Casey would never admit that. If only she could get over this whole thing with Chuck. Casey grunted. When she had asked him about family, he thought his eyes would bulge out. Casey wasn't sure if those two had anything going on, but he had to keep his eyes open. It could hurt them on a mission. He shook his head as he pulled into the apartment complex. He knew Chuck had feelings for Sarah, but he didn't know if Sarah had feelings for Chuck, or rather just the idea that was Chuck, what Chuck represented. Stability, family, calm. Or, in other words, the opposite of what her agent life was life. Until Casey knew for sure how she felt about Chuck, his hands were tied. He could warn her, but that only carried so much weight. Casey jumped out of the car and slammed the door. This whole thing was a freaking mess.

Casey walked to the front door and knocked twice. A couple of seconds later, Devon answered, shirtless once again.

"Hey John," Devon said, with a big grin on his face. "What's up?"

"Morning," Casey said, forcing a smile. He could be polite, if he wanted to be. "I was heading for work, and I thought I'd give Chuck a ride. Gas prices these days, you know."

"Doing the car pool thing, hey? That's awesome."

Casey managed not to roll his eyes.

"I'm sorry John, but Chuck's not here." Devon then smiled, and Casey knew something was up. Panic ripped through him. Where was the little squirt?

"Did he leave already?"

"He didn't come home at all last night." Devon slapped Casey on the shoulder, then leaned in to talk to him. "I think Sarah and him are getting the freaky deaky on, if you know what I mean. Awesome, huh?"

Casey stood there in a state of shock. "He is at Sarah's?"

Devon shook his head up and down. "Where else would he be? Looks like he finally took my advice. I've never been so proud." He slapped Casey on the shoulder. "Don't yell at him if he is tired at work, they were more than likely going at it all night, with how long they have held it off." Devon walked back inside. "See ya John."

Casey stared at the closed door for a second, then took off towards his new car, the replacement car. There's no way, he thought to himself. Or is there? The second I leave, Walker goes and gets him, and they... It was making more sense by the mintute. He was going to kill both of them! That would solve all his problems.

Casey's Monte Carlo ripped across the road, making the trip to Walker's a lot quicker than the speed limit allowed. He bounded up the stairs three at a time until he reached Walker's green door. Without losing his stride, he kicked it open. He went in screaming.

"What the hell are you two doing?!"

Walker groggily sat up and removed her sleeping mask. "What are you talking about Casey?"

Casey stared at the bed. Walker was the only person in it. "Where is Chuck?"

Sarah looked at her alarm clock. "He should be heading to work. Why did you murder my door? You could just knock, you know."

Casey glared at her. "He didn't spend the night at home. You were suppposed to be watching him, where is he?"

Sarah got up out of bed, stretching her arms and exposing her tanned belly button as she did so. "What do you mean he wasn't at home?"

"He did not spend the night there. Where is he? Why don't you know where he is?"

Sarah glanced at Casey, and her cheeks turned a bit red. "I guess I dozed off."

Casey couldn't believe this. "Dozed off? Come on Walker!"

It was Sarah's turn to get mad. "Why are you over-reacting so much? There are lots of reasons Chuck may have spent the night somewhere else, and they are all legitimate."

"And I can think of some not so good reasons as well," Casey retorted. "I leave here for one night, and everything goes to hell!"

Sarah reached onto her nightstand and picked up her cell phone. "I can solve this right now, if you would stop yelling. I'm calling him."

"Put it on speaker."

Sarah glared at him, but did it. The phone rang once, then someone picked it up. Sarah smiled saracastically at Casey as if to say "I told you so." The smile went away as soon as the person on the other end spoke.

"Special Agent Walker, I believe?"

Sarah's and Casey's eyes both got huge as they stared at the phone, and the deep voice that had just came out of it. Casey ran over to stand beside Sarah. He spoke into the phone. "Who is this" he asked roughly.

"That doesn't matter," the voice said. "What matters is I have Mr. Bartowski on a bed right here beside me, and if you want him to live, you will do as I say."

Sarah and Casey looked at each other. Trouble brewed in their eyes.


	3. Tortured Kiss

**Chapter Three – Tortured Kiss**

Sarah and Casey's eyes made contact, then they glanced back down at the phone in Sarah's hand. Casey's arm involuntarily drifted towards the gun tucked in his waistband as he spoke into the phone.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, Mr. Casey, I am talking about a man, a man by the name of Chuck Bartowski. He also has another name. The Intersect."

At that, Sarah could not hold back a gasp, and Casey cursed under his breath. Who was this guy? The man on the other end continued.

"Don't worry, don't worry. Your friend is safe. For now."

Sarah and Casey's eyes had a conversation, and Sarah won. She would negotiate.

"What do you mean by Intersect?"

"Cut the crap, Agent Walker. You know exactly what I am talking about, and if you try to play games with me, Chuck will pay for it. Dearly."

Casey cursed again. Playing dumb wasn't going to work with this character.

"What do you want," she asked, her blue eyes full of fierceness and worry, as her lips forced out those words in an aggressive tone.

"Upset, Agent Walker?" the voice said. He sounded amused. "Like I said, don't worry. As long as you two don't do anything stupid, Chuck will live."

Sarah paused, trying to settle herself down and adapt a business attitude to the situation. Casey looked at her, and patted her on the shoulder, trying to calm her down. The last thing we need, he thought, is her going off the deep end on this guy.

"Do you want money," Sarah asked curtly.

"Money is of no importance to me."

"Then what is it you want?"

The man laughed, a deep sound that sent chills down Casey's back. "I want you two to stay out of my way."

It was Sarah's turn to laugh, albeit a disgusted chuckle. "You have my asset."

"Good, you're being honest. You want him back. And not to worry, he will be returned to you, if you don't screw it up, and he listens."

"What do you want him for," Sarah asked, sitting down on her bed and holding the phone closer to her mouth, small amounts of spit flying out, displaying her repressed anger.

"You know I can't tell you that. Now listen. I'm tired of this small talk. You two will not report this to your superiors, or Chuck will pay. You will not search for him, or Chuck will pay even more. I need to borrow the Intersect, and as soon as Chuck cooperates, he will be let go, unharmed, unless you or he causes trouble. Get the picture? Thank you."

The next noise Casey and Sarah heard was a clicking sound, and the man on the other end of the line was gone. "Wait," Sarah cried into the phone. But it was useless. Sarah looked up at Casey. "We have to get him." It wasn't a question.

Casey nodded. He knew that Walker would stop at nothing to rescue Chuck, and he was pretty sure he would do the same. It was the job, after all. "I'll call Beckman." He reached for his phone.

Sarah jumped up off the bed and grabbed Casey's arm. "You can't" she exclaimed with authority.

Casey stared at her with disbelief. "You're going to listen to that asshole?"

Sarah shook her head. "No, it's not about that."

Casey was getting madder by the second. Maybe this had put her over the edge. "Then what are you talking about. They have resources, resources that can help us get Bartowski back. We would be have to be idiots not to use them."

Sarah grabbed Casey's arm again. "Think about it Casey. Just three days ago, Chuck almost was taken away because of a Fulcrum threat. If they find out someone else knows about the Intersect, and has kidnapped it, if we do rescue him, he'll be put in a little white room."

Casey's head reclined a bit. What Walker said was true. But that didn't change matters. "I could care less if he is put in a little room. That's better than death, and if we don't do everything we can for him, he could die Walker! I think your female feelings are clouding your judgement!"

Sarah bit her lip and sat back down on her bed. She looked up at Casey, her eyes misty. "Give me two hours. If we haven't retrieved Chuck by then, we'll call Beckman and Graham."

Their eyes stayed connected, and Casey could feel the emotion pouring out of Sarah. He grunted. "I swear, you will be the end of me."

Sarah smiled, then jumped up again.

"Where do you suggest we start," Casey asked, curious as to how Walker expected to find Chuck in two hours.

Sarah jiggled her cell phone at him, then started dialing a number. "I'm going to call a contact I have to trace that call for me, and see where it came from. He was definitely on long enough to get confirmation on the location."

Casey nodded his head. This felt like it was going to be a long day.

* * *

Chuck groaned as he tried to open his eyes. For some reason, they didn't seem to want to open. Maybe it has something to do with the massive headache he had. Though why he had fallen asleep in a chair, he didn't know. He went to move his hand up to his eyes, to try and help open them manually, and found out he couldn't. They wouldn't move from the side of the chair. That was strange.

Come to think of it, where was he? He thought back. Getting into the Nerd Herder was the last thing that he remembered. From the smell of the place, he wasn't in the company car. The room he was in smelled damp, like a basement. Even though he couldn't move his legs, his feet had room for a little movement, and he thought he could scrape the floor with the bottom of his shoes. Was it dirt?

Chuck worked on his eyes, blinking them at a rapid pace until they finally opened. He was in a dimly lit room. He was facing a wall, and was about four feet away from it. The once white bricks were the only things he could see. Chuck tried to move his arms up to touch the wall, but once again was met with resistance. He looked down, and his mouth opened in shock. Ropes bound him to the chair.

What the hell, he said to himself. He suppressed the urge to panic. "Hello," he called out. No one answered.

His heart started beating faster and faster. He took a deep breath, swallowing heavy air. Relax, he told himself. Relax. Think. What would Sarah do here?

That didn't help matters. Was she here too? Had she been kidnapped as well? Chuck assumed he had been; good guys generally didn't tie you up. Chuck rubbed his right hip up against the chair, which did have arms on it. His cell phone was gone. Dang it.

Chuck started moving his body backwards and forwards, left and to the right, trying to get away from the ropes grasp. He picked up the pace, getting nowhere, until he finally went backwards to hard, and the chair slowly started tilting backwards. He closed his eyes tightly, preparing himself for the impact with the dirt floor when the chair stopped at an impossible angle; he should be on the floor right now. Something had stopped the chair. Was someone back there?

"Hello?" Chuck cried out weakly. "Is anyone there?"

The chair vaulted forwards and into its proper place quickly, and Chucks head whip lashed a bit. A heavy voice came from behind him.

"Yes. It is I."

Chuck laughed nervously. "Who is I?"

Chuck heard footsteps behind him, and turned his head in the direction of them. A man walked by, and stood in front of him, between Chuck and the wall. The man was dressed in a tux, with black gloves on and a mask that only had only one visible hole in it, for his nose. Chuck supposed there were eyeholes, but he couldn't tell. The man had placed dark sunglasses over the mask. Chuck gulped. This guy did not look like the friendly sort.

The man spoke. "I am me."

Chuck twitched his nose. "As long as you aren't a tax collector, I think I'll like you."

The man's head went back slightly. Chuck wondered if he had smiled. The man put his arms behind his back, and continued to stare at Chuck. Chuck, who had been staring at the man's face, slowly moved them down, feeling the heat of the man's gaze even if he could not see it. Sweat started down Chuck's cheeks even thought it was cool in this place, wherever this place was. He peeked back up, and the man was still staring at him. He had to stop that; it was like a silent, hands off kind of torture. Chuck spoke up.

"Do you have a name?"

The man spoke one word. "Nicholas."

Chuck urged his cheek muscles to smile. "Nice to meet you Nick. I'm Chuck."

"Bartowski," Nicholas added. "Your name is Chuck Bartowski."

Chuck's eyes got wide. Who was this guy, and how did he know so much about me, Chuck thought. I hope he doesn't know about… Chuck couldn't even bare to think the word. But he didn't need to. Nicholas spoke it for him.

"Yes, Chuck Bartowski, the Human Intersect."

Chuck licked his lips. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Nicholas leaned down, putting his gloved hands on his knees, and putting his face right in Chuck's. "Yes, you do. You have the entire Intersect, created by the CIA and NSA, in your head. You see things, you hear things, keys, we will call them, and then you have mental pictures and sounds move, flash, as you call them, through your head, and you are educated on the issue, making connections no one else could ever make." Nicholas took his right hand and put it on Chuck's cheek, holding it there. "You are very special. I am proud of you."

Chuck moved his cheek away from the man's hand. The hand quickly became a fist, and that fist made contact with Chuck's gut.

"Ugh," Chuck sputtered as he tried to lean forward, but couldn't. He wanted to get out of here; he wanted Sarah. He didn't dare mention her name; if she wasn't here, he didn't want to get her here.

"You have no right," Nicholas said, getting even closer to Chuck. "You have no right." He moved his hands, and wrapped them around the back to Chuck's head, and pulled it closer to him. Chuck winced as his hair was pulled. Nicholas then leaned forward, and through the mask, kissed Chuck on the forehead, than abruptly got up and walked out of Chuck's view.

Chuck leaned his head back, as far as it would go, wondering what the hell that was about as he tried to get over his stomach pain. "What do you want?"

Nicholas came back into sight, and knelt down in front of Chuck, looking up at him.

"I want you to look at a picture for me. You will flash, and you will tell me the contents of that flash. Understand?"

Chuck moved his head nervously. "There is no guarantee I will flash on it. Only certain things…" Nicholas cut him off.

"I know, I know, you only flash on certain things. I know more about what goes on in your head than you do, I'm sure. But you will flash on this, I know that for certain."

Nicholas reached into his tux, and pulled out a vanilla folder. He removed a white sheet of paper, and held it in front of Chuck's face. On it was the word "Operation Sandstorm." Chuck's eyes opened wide, and the flash began.

_A picture of a boy riding a bike_

_An folder that had the words Top Secret stamped on it_

_A lot of workers rushing around in a large room, trying to assemble something_

_An order signed by the President_

_A large delivery truck_

_A ship_

_A picture of Los Angles_

_The outside of a building_

_A document with a lot of writing on it_

_Back to the picture of a boy riding a bike_

Chuck's head went back as he came out of the flash. He shook his head, not quite believing what he had just seen. His eyes held his amazement. Nicholas did not miss this. He leaned forward, putting his hands on Chuck's arms.

"What did you see? Quickly, tell me!"

Chuck replayed it in his mind. The United States government had been secretly making more nuclear weapons, stockpiling, just in case. But then that President's eight years were up, and the new guy was not happy, and had ordered the destruction of those nukes. For the past month, they had been taken to Los Angles, where they were now being held in a warehouse until they could be destroyed. Chuck gasped. This man, Nicholas, wanted the nukes!

Nicholas was getting impatient. "Tell me what you saw."

Chuck tried his best. "I didn't see anything."

Nicholas slapped him, almost knocking his jaw off. "Tell me where the nuclear weapons are being held! Now!"

Chuck looked up at him, moving his jaw tentatively. "I can't." And he couldn't. If this guy somehow got a hold of all those weapons, so many people could do. The world might. Where was Sarah?

Nicholas breathed in deeply. "I'm not going to argue morals with you, Chuck. I'm going to get it out of you." Nicholas disappeared from out of Chuck's sight. "Every person has a different limit. A person can only take so much before they give in. I guess we'll have to see how much you can take, Mr. Bartowski."

The next thing Chuck knew, his head was being forced backwards, his hair being pulled by the man's hand. In the man's other hand, there was a knife, kitchen variety. Chuck closed his eyes as his muscles tensed up and his heart beat faster than ever before. How was he going to get out of this mess? Nicholas set the tip of the knife softly at the top of Chuck's cheekbone, right below his eyes.

"Tell me what you saw."

Chuck remained silent as he sat there stiffly, accepting that this might be the end.

He heard Nicholas sigh. "I'm sorry. I really am." Nicolas then proceeded to push the knife into Chuck's skin, and rip it down all the way to his jaw. Such a scream leaped from Chuck then as his body went out of control, trying to get away from that terrible knife. But Nicholas held him still as blood dripped from Chuck's face, as it looked as though he was crying blood from his left eye. Nicholas spoke.

"This is just the beginning. Tell me what you saw. Where are they?"

Chuck remained silent. Somehow, he was starting to feel braver, stronger. He had withstood this test. He had not given in. He almost wished Sarah was there, to see him in this moment of strange glory. He closed his eyes and thought of her, of her long hair and the way he wanted to feel it all around him. Of the tenderness of her lips the one time they had kissed; the feel of his hand moving up her back…

Nicholas had obviously sensed a difference in Chuck, and he backed away from the back of Chuck's chair. "I can do so much more, you know."

Chuck spoke, with words coming from somewhere; he didn't know where. They were words he never would have dreamed he could say, but they came out. "Kill me. I will never tell you anything."

Nicholas walked back in front of Chuck and stared at him. "My, you are brave. I'm so proud." Chuck gave him a confused glance. "But you are going to tell me what I want, or I will drag your sister, Eleanor, in here, and kill her in front of you. Would you like that, Chuck? Would you?"

Chuck smiled at Nicholas, causing the man to tilt his head in surprise. "If you know about the Intersect, you know I am well protected. They know by now I am gone, and I'm sure they are watching over my family. Go and try and get her, and get yourself caught. Be my guest." Chuck took a deep breath after that, and waited for the explosion. It didn't come.

"Smart too," Nicholas said as he ruffled Chuck's hair. 'Very smart. But I am smarter, and you will talk."

Chuck winced as some sweat from his forehead went into his cheek wound. That was starting to hurt more and more.

Nicholas went to speak. "Now…" He was cut off by the ring of his phone, not Chuck's. He picked it up. "Hello? What do you want? Now? I'm busy. How is it related, and how do you know? What? How? Fine, I'll be there quick." He closed the phone.

"Who was that," Chuck asked.

Nicholas walked away from Chuck. "An old friend of yours. I have to go see him. You will stay here, and when I get back, you will talk." Nicholas came back into view, holding a rag, and he forced it over Chuck's face. The darkness returned, and Chuck head slumped over.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the place?"

"My contact was sure, and I trust him."

"An old motel room. Not exactly original."

"Listen, if Chuck is in there, we are going to get him. I don't want you to go Rambo, and accidentally shoot Chuck."

"Walker, I know how to use a gun. Don't lecture me unless you want a speech yourself. You better keep your emotions in check in there."

"Enough of this. Are you ready?"

"Let's do this."

Casey and Sarah hopped out of Casey's new Monte Carlo, and walked quietly up to the door that had a brass #18 on it. Sarah and Casey both held guns in their hands. Sarah nodded at Casey, and with a single kick, he busted the door. They rushed in.

"Damn," Sarah yelled as she threw down her gun on the bed. "Damn it to hell!" The room was empty.

Casey walked over to the nightstand, and picked up a white card, and opened it. Frowning, he handed it to Sarah. Her eyes scanned it, reading the words "I told you not to look for him…" She looked up at Casey, eyes furious and scared. She put the card on the bed.

Casey grunted as Sarah stared out the motel window. "Where are you Chuck," she whispered. "Where are you?"


	4. Old Loves

****

Chapter Four - Old Loves

"How could you let this happen?"

Casey and Sarah both stared at the floor, unable to answer the question. Beckman snorted, an entirely unprofessional sound, before Graham spoke.

"Do you have any leads?"

Sarah spoke up. Casey was slightly worried about her; her voice was wavering a bit, and he needed her top game if they were going to get Chuck back. "We traced the phone call that this Nicholas figure had placed to us to a run down motel, and it was obvious when we got there that he had set up the location somehow."

"He's playing with us," Graham said as he leaned forward, putting his right hand under his chin, his face taking up more of the screen in Casey's apartment.

"I'm nobody's playtoy," Casey growled. "We will get him back."

"You'd better get the Intersect back, Major Casey, or you will face an early dishonorable retirement." A glare emitted from Beckman's face as she said this, and Casey shrunk back. Sometimes he wanted to wring that woman's neck, but she was his boss, she gave the orders. She knew what was best; understood things he could never begin too.

"Do we have any idea how he was taken?" Graham rubbed his temples as Sarah carefully spoke.

"He never made it home, so the next logical place for a kidnapping to take place is the Buy More. It did not happen in there, the bugs didn't pick anything up. But the car Chuck was to drive home was still in the parking lot, so it is safe to say that it happened while he was walking from the store to his car."

"And, if I understand correctly, that is basically all the information we have, except for the name of this man. This... Nicholas." Graham pondered on the name.

"You talked to this man. Did you notice anything about him?" Beckman tapped her finger impatiently on the wooden desk.

"He did not use a voice modifier," Casey added, glancing at a sheet of paper that had nothing of importance written on it. "Which more than likely means his voice is not on file. Unless he made a dumb mistake."

"Check and make sure, Agent Casey," Graham said. "We've got to try everything here."

Sarah, who Casey noticed had been zoning off, then opened her mouth. "He sounded like an older man."

Graham sighed, then looked at the two agents. "Look. This is a serious situation. The man does not want money, and he knows he has the Intersect in his hands. That either means he is Fulcrum or an independent."

"Based on recent events, Fulcrum seems likely." Beckman frowned as she talked. "In any case, we can't have this man find out we are looking for the Intersect, he might panic, and then who knows what would happen."

"So," Graham cut in, "you two are going to handle the entire investigation, for the time being. Do all the routine checks, secretly safe guard everyone important to Chuck, and find the Intersect. You two are the best of the best, and I know you can do it." The screen went black.

Casey and Sarah turned to look at one another. Casey detected sadness in Sarah's eyes, but that was overcome by passion, an enormous passion, to find Chuck.

"Let's do this," Sarah said. Casey nodded. They had too. He threw the paper he had been doodling on in the trashcan on the way out.

* * *

Nicholas walked down the street with at a quick pace. As much as he liked having that constricting mask off his face, he thought he would perfer that to the glare of the sun shining down on his face. He had gotten used to it, before, but it had been many years since he had been in Los Angles. He glanced at his watch. Chuck should be out for another five hours, at the least. Plenty of time for him to have this meeting and settle what needed to be settled. Nicholas hoped it would go smoothly; he didn't like to kill. He smiled at that lie.

His smile grew when he thought of Chuck. Nicholas was proud of him. He had incorrectly assumed that the man would crack under the first rounds of pressure, but he had with-held. Nicholas had looked in his eyes, and saw that no amount of physical tourment he did to the man would get him to tell Nicholas what he needed to know. So, in some ways, Nicholas was glad for the phone call he had gotten, calling him to this place. It provided an opportunity. And Nicholas would, even if things didn't go well, take advantage of this opportunity.

Nicholas entered the outside food plaza named La Teiate's, and sat down under one of the umbrella shaded tables. He was not here yet. He had never been one for promptness. A pretty young waitress came up, and he ordered an orange juice. No drinking today; he needed to stay sharp.

As soon as the waitress put the orange juice down on his table with a smile, he saw him, coming in from the opposite street that he did. Their eyes connected, and Nicholas smiled. He was still the same old trickster. Nicholas knew he was going to have to be at the top of his game today.

The man with long dark hair sat down across from Nicholas, and frowned. "What have you been up too?"

Nicholas winked at the man. "I think you know the answer to that. I should thank you, really. Without you, I would never have this opportunity." Nicholas reached across the table and laid his old hand on the other man's. "I'll make sure I give Chuck your highest regards, Mr. Larkin."

Bryce sniffed. "Keep me out of this. The CIA and NSA think I am on their side. It's nice to have a little protection to fall back on to."

Nicholas frowned and removed his hand from Bryce's. "Protection is for the weak; I taught you that."

"You also taught me to manipulate." Bryce leaned forward. "You helped make me what I am today."

Their eyes met in a nonphysical tussle. "With how close you have come to losing everything, I don't think I want to take any credit."

Bryce laughed, still gazing at Nicholas intensely. "You always have before. You found me shortly after I was recruited, and showed me what I could do on my own. You're the one that found out about Chuck's high scores, and helped me get him expelled, so we could use him later."

"And use him you did," Nicholas added, eyes full of amusement. "You sent him the Intersect."

"It was always the plan," Bryce said. He reached over and grabbed Nichola's orange juice, and took a sip of it through the twistie straw. "I know that's what you were planning on using him for, but I got the opportunity when Fulcrum recruited me, and I jumped at it."

"I don't blame you for that. Sending the Intersect to Chuck was genius; your rention is just average."

Bryce's eyes became a storm, angry at those words. "I don't remember your's being any better."

Nicholas put his hands back on top of Bryce's. "I planned this thing. It was my theory that Chuck would be able to retain all that data. Without me, you would have nothing right now."

"As it is, you screwed me over." Bryce straightened his leather jacket. How could he wear that thing on such a hot day. "I had Chuck waiting there, safe in CIA and NSA hands until the moment came when I could use him, and then you come along, and freaking kidnap him. How did you do it?"

It was Nichola's turn to lean back, a proud look on his face. "I knew you had broken in, but I thought the Intersect was destroyed. But, as I always told you, I was extra diligent in my studies, and saw some... interesting investments being put into this area by our two favorite agencies. I watched it for a while, until I heard that you were back here, alive, somehow. That is when it all clicked. Why would you stay here? I knew the chick you were banging was on assignment here, and Chuck was here, but neither of them would interest you. Something of value had to be here. I, of course, knew of Chuck's ability, and had told you of my plans, so it was common sense to piece together what you had done. Add in the Fulcrum interest around this area, and I just bided my time, waiting in the shadows to make my move."

Bryce nodded his head. "Impressive. You haven't slipped in your old age."

"Nor do I ever plan too."

"What do you want the Intersect for?"

"Are you familiar with an Operation Sandstorm?"

Bryce's eyes got wide, and he looked as though he might run. "You want to use nukes?"

"Chuck will tell me where they are located," Nicholas confirmed, "and then I will need to study them, and make sure the codes are right. That will take up to a year of intense sensative studying and testing. Then..." Nicholas put his clenched fists up in the air, and opened them. "Boom boom."

Bryce stared at him. "You said will tell. Chuck hasn't told you yet?"

"No," Nicholas said. "He will not respond to physical torture."

Bryce shaked his head. "I can't believe you, of all people, is doing this to him."

"I thought you had gotten over that long ago."

"It's just hard to believe, even for you." Bryce took another sip of the orange juice. "So, Chuck's too strong for the physical stuff, suprisingly, so what's next?"

"This is where you come in."

Bryce's eyes became clouded as he thought. Nicholas smiled. Bryce may be many things, but stupid was not.

"What do I have to gain from helping you?"

Nicholas was quick with his response. "Access to the Intersect. You need him, come see me, anytime. By then he will be broken. He'll give us anything we want."

Nicholas almost laughed while he watched Bryce pretend to play hard to get. That was a great deal, and Bryce knew it. Finally, Bryce spoke.

"What do you want?"

Nicholas leaned forward. "I need someone else, someone who I can make Chuck talk with. His family and friends are under protection by now, but there is someone who I think could get to him, and you know where this person is. And I don't think the death of this person will bother you. You know who I am talking about."

Their eyes connected once again. "It's a deal," Bryce exclaimed. "I'll have her to you tonight."

* * *

Sarah sat on the couch in Ellie's place, knees tucked in up to her chin, arms around her legs. She didn't like sitting on this couch without Chuck there; it didn't seem right, for some reason. She could hear Ellie preparing hot chocolate in the kitchen.

She sighed as she moved a hand to wipe her blonde hair out of her left eye. It had been a long day. Casey and her had searched all day long, looking for some lead, anything, to tell them where Chuck was. And they had found nothing. She couldn't remember suffering such a miserable failure in her life. How had she fallen asleep last night? Agents were trained to go days without rest. It must have been all the emotional toil with Chuck, she decided. Another reason to end it, if there was anything to end. It affected her job.

The situation with Chuck drove her crazy. No matter what she did, she couldn't escape him. When they were under the cover, for the first time, everything was going great, until he wanted more, more than she could give. When he pulled away, it had affected her more than she ever could have dreamed. And then Bryce came back, another stunner. She could have gone with him, to go hunt Fulcrum. She should have gone with him. If a more competent agent was assigned to Chuck, he might not be in this mess right now. It was her fault.

As she closed her eyes to try and hold back the tears, a memory came to her, from the rooftop. Longshore. Lizzie. Chuck. She shook her head. She had compromised herself there, strongly, opening herself up like she never had before. And she knew if Chuck walked through those doors right now, she would compromise herself again, maybe right into Chuck's bedroom.

No, she told herself. No. You are going to rescue Chuck, do everything to keep him from being put underground, and then you are going to ask for reassignment, perferably with Bryce. He was an agent, he didn't ask the things out of her that Chuck did. And her leaving would keep Chuck safe. That was the most important thing, his safety.

Ellie walked into the room and handed Sarah a mug of steaming darkness. Sarah took it and whispered a thank you. Ellie sat down on the couch beside her.

Casey and Sarah had fought over what to tell Ellie, and finally, they had decided on the truth, or rather, a version of it. Chuck was missing, and they couldn't find him. Ellie would call the local police, and they would do their thing, to inexperienced to interfere with the real investigation.

"Chuck wouldn't just leave like that," Ellie said, her eyes full of worry. "He wouldn't."

"I know," Sarah said, reaching out and touching Ellie's shoulder. "He'll be back, with a very Chuckish explanation and with one of his insanely cute Chuckish grins."

Ellie smiled as she wiped her eyes. "It's just, he's been more closed recently, and I just wonder if this is somehow my fault."

Sarah's face became stone. "It's not your fault Ellie. You can't blame yourself. Why are we talking like this anyway? He could be out hanging somewhere."

Ellie looked at Sarah. "You're right." She wrapped Sarah in a hug, and after a few seconds, Sarah responded. "I'm so glad you came into my little brother's life."

Sarah's eyes were fire looking over Ellie's shoulder. She would find Chuck, and then keep him safe by leaving. But first, she wanted to stay here, with someone who missed Chuck just like she did. She held Ellie tighter as a single tear escaped her iron will and ran down her cheek.

* * *

Chuck was getting tired of staring at this white wall. The chemical this Nicholas person had used to put him out had worn off about an hour ago, and after trying to break free of the ropes for 45 minutes, he had given up; all he was getting out of it was bad rope burn. He then tried to imagine Sarah there, but that made him sad, and it would take something very extreme for him to think of Casey, so the wall it was. How was he going to get out of this mess?

The cut on his cheek hurt. He figured it would scar. Morgan would love that, he said to himself. I'd look like a cool action hero from a video game. They always have scars, the experienced ones. What would he give to be playing Call of Duty right now...

A noise from behind him took him out of his reverie. He listened intently. There were two sets of footsteps; was it help? Could it be? Chuck dared to hope.

"Sarah, Sarah, is that you? Please Sarah..." He was cut off when Nicholas walked in front of him.

"Having fun," Nicholas said, his face once again hidden by the mask.

Chuck smiled at him. "What do you think?"

Nicholas nodded his head. "I thought so. That is why I brought you an old friend." Nicholas walked behind Chuck, and Chuck could hear little dimmed squeals. Who was it?

Nicholas pulled another tied up person right in front of Chuck, and turned her head so that Chuck could see her. Chuck's heart skipped a beat as he stared into Jill's eyes.

"Maybe this will get you to talk," Nicholas said as he started to laugh. Chuck's eyes were connected with Jill's as he wondered what the hell he was going to do.


	5. Death

**I just wanted to thank everyone for reading. I would like to say this Chapter was very hard to write, since I wanted it to be a certain tone, and I would like to thank John Keats excellent poetry for getting me through it. :) Thanks, CNC**

* * *

**Chapter Five – Death**

What would Ronald do? The thought crossed John Casey's mind as he sat in his armchair, staring at his framed portrait of the honorable man and President. Not that Ronald ever had to do dirty work like this. Now that Casey thought about it, Ronald may never had to face a situation this important. With Chuck in enemy hands, the Intersect in enemy hands, the world could be destroyed. He groaned as he leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Why did they let Chuck roam the streets in the first place? He should have been locked up the moment they had him in custody, after he defused that bomb.

But Chuck remained free, with Casey and Walker now caring for him. Casey sighed. If they didn't resolve this thing, it would ruin his career, overshadow all of his other great accomplishments. But that wasn't the worst thing. Casey was even more worried about Chuck. That surprised Casey. Whoever had Chuck would milk him for everything he was worth and then kill him. Casey doubted they would find the body. They had to find him; they had too!

Walker walked in then, frowning with red eyes, and sat on Casey's leather couch. She looked at him with fake optimism. "Anything?"

Casey shook his head no in reply. Sarah cursed under her breath. They had nothing.

"We've exhausted every possibility," Casey said, putting the portrait of his hero down, not even noticing he had picked it up. "We have to wait for whoever had him to mess up."

"That's not good enough." Sarah did not yell, but sat there. Defeated. Almost broken. Casey could see it in her eyes. "We need to do more."

"What more do you want us to do? Go door to door? Check every car and plane leaving the LA area?

Casey got a curt "Yes" in reply.

He grunted, and stood up, and walked in front of Walker. "That is not possible and you know it. We have to keep this contained. We can't let them know we are panicking. The Director and General are pulling as many strings as they can right now, and all we can do is just keep doing what we are doing. That's all."

Walker stood up, and got in his face. "That's not good enough," she repeated. "He could die."

Casey did not back away. "Well then what do you suggest," he asked sarcastically.

Walker's face got closer to his, mere inches away. "Something," she growled. "Anything."

"An idea would be nice."

With a closed fist, Walker hit him in the shoulder. He stood there as she hit him again and again, screaming as she did so. After a few seconds, Casey tried grabbing her arms, and after a brief struggle did. She tried to kick him but he blocked it. Her emotions gave out, and she collapsed into Casey's arms. He fell backwards onto the floor, holding her in his lap, her head resting against his chest. Slight tears fell from her eyes as she cried. "We are never going to see him again, are we?"

Casey couldn't reply. He was too busy blinking his eyes furiously. He didn't think a tear would fall, but he wanted to be sure.

* * *

Chuck closed his eyes and prayed that this was a dream. He opened them, and saw that he was still in this hell.

"So, are you going to talk now? Or do I have to hurt this pretty girl?" Nicholas deep voice cut through Chuck's soul as he raced through all the options in his head. None of them were good.

Nicholas threw Jill on the floor where she lay, bound and crying. A blindfold covered her eyes, and her hands and feet were tied, with her hands behind her back. Even in her mangled state, with her black hair haphazardly thrown everywhere, she was recognizable. Chuck could barely believe it; it has been years since he had seen her. He knew they would meet again, someday, but never in a situation like this. He heard Nicholas behind him, pulling another chair over to them, but his mind was concentrating on his ex-girlfriend laying in front of him, her life in danger. Everything that she had done to him didn't enter his mind once. How was he going to save her? He needed Sarah.

Nicholas came back into view and put a wooden chair against the wall directly in front and facing Chuck. Picking Jill up, he placed her in the chair. When she spoke, Chuck's heart skipped a beat. Dear God, her voice, he had forgotten how it sounded, how sweet and innocent. What was he going to do?

"What do you want," she cried, moving her head from one side to the other, senses going crazy and paranoid since she was deprived of sight. "I haven't done anything wrong. What do you want?"

Nicholas smiled as he patted the top of her head, and looked at Chuck, speaking to him. "Her life is in your hands. You tell me what I want to know and she lives. You don't and she dies. It is as simple as that."

"Who are you talking to," Jill cried as she struggled with the ropes tied to her, accidentally banging her head off the wall behind her as she did so.

"An old friend of yours," Nicholas said, moving his gloved hand down to caress her neck with his fingers. "Do you want to see him?" Without waiting for a reply from either of them, Nicholas moved his hand to the back of Jill's head. "I want you to see him, and him to see you. I want him to see what could die." The blindfold came off, and as bad as Chuck wanted to close his eyes, he couldn't. Jill blinked rapidly until she turned her head, and her eyes made contact with Chuck's. He had never seen her eyes grow that big, and her mouth opened slightly. Chuck thought his chair was shaking from how hard and fast his heart was beating.

Jill's mouth moved, and everything else in the world stopped existing for Chuck. "Chuck," she said breathlessly. "Chuck."

Chuck tried to force smile. "Hey Jill," he said, choking on the words. "You look… nice."

Jill smiled, and Chuck remembered why he had loved her, why he still did, to a certain degree. "Same old Chuck," she said in a near whisper. Her face then became serious, and Chuck grew worried. "Are you all right? What happened to your cheek?"

Chuck remembered the knife wound, and sighed. He couldn't let that happen to her. She was in more danger right now then he was. He tried to laugh off the injury. "I never was a good bar fighter. You should remember that." He paused, reliving old memories. "I blame you for that, you know."

Jill laughed, a melodious sound. "I never tried to get you drunk again after that."

A cough came from behind them, and they were both reminded of Nicholas presence. "Sorry to interrupt the reunion, but I need information, Chuck, and I need it now."

Jill looked from one to the other. "What is he talking about Chuck?"

Instinctively, Chuck shook his head no. Nicholas immediately strolled towards Chuck and grabbed him by the ears, putting his masked face into Chuck's blood covered one. Jill screamed. Nicholas ignored her. "Tell me what I need to know."

Chuck looked at Nicholas, stared into the man's sunglasses. "I can't," he said weakly. "Please understand. I can't."

Nicholas put his masked face forwards, and kissed Chuck on the lips. Chuck could feel the man's lips under the mask, and he was too shocked to move his head or something. Nicholas moved his head back a few inches, and whispered "I love you", then walked towards Jill.

"You're crazy," Chuck yelled after him. He knew this was not the time to make the man in control mad, but damn it, his blood was boiling. "You're freaking crazy!"

Nicholas pulled a nylon rope out of his suit coat, and in one swift move, wrapped it around Jill's neck, who had time to yell a quick "Chuck" before air was cut off. She started gagging, gasping for air that could not reach her lungs.

"Tell me what I need to know Chuck."

Chuck leaned back in his chair as far as he could go, and closed his eyes, getting as far away from what was going on over there as he could.

"Tell me or she dies, Chuck."

Sarah, Sarah, where are you? This was where she would always burst in the door, and save the day. Sarah? Are you coming?

"Chuck…"

Jill's gasps filled Chuck's mind as he started to shake, bring up old memories of different types of gasps, when they were making love, on the beach at her parent's summer cottage, Chuck running his hands down her luscious body under the moonlight. But those gasps were different. The gasps from Jill stopped.

"… tell me."

"ALRIGHT!" Chuck screamed, losing self-control. "LET HER GO! I'LL TELL YOU!"

Nicholas smiled under his mask and released the rope. Jill's head slumped to her shoulder, but Chuck could she her chest moving in and out, funneling air in. She was alive. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Nicholas got in his face again. "Tell me, Chuck, or next time I don't stop."

Chuck's face fell, and just when Nicholas was about to walk away, he lifted his head, and told Nicholas. Told him where the nukes were. Told him information that could kill millions, no billions of people. Chuck gave it all up then; there was nothing left. He was too weak. When he was done, Nicholas rubbed Chuck's head.

"Aces Charles, nothing but aces."

Chuck's mind stilled as his senses dulled. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be…

Nicholas pulled a knife out of his coat. He held it in the light. "I am sorry," he said, then he held it up, and in one quick move, swung it around. Chuck closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he was still intact, and Nicholas was no longer standing in front of him. That's when he saw her.

"JILL!" he yelled.

Her head was straight up, gasping for air through her ruined throat, a throat ruined by Nicholas, Nicholas and his knife. Her head lowered for a second as her eyes made contact with Chuck's. Time stopped; nothing else existed but the two of them.

"Chuck," she barely got out, and then her head collapsed, leaning forward against her chest, which has stopped moving. Chuck's heart became stone as he died. Maybe not physically, but spiritually, he was dead.

"It's easier this way," Nicholas said helpfully. "Having her dead is better. We can spend more time together."

Chuck turned his head to look at the man, the man that he had once loved, but now hated, hated with every fiber in his being. "Screw you, daddy."

Chuck's uninjured cheek suddenly became red. Nicholas shook his hand after the hard slap, then removed his mask. For the first time in years, Chuck gazed upon the face of his father.

He had lost all his hair, but besides that, he looked the same. Older. More wrinkles, a few scars that weren't there before. But otherwise, there was no difference. Sweat glistened on the man's face.

"I didn't want to do it Chuck, I didn't want too. But you left me no choice."

Chuck remained silent. He had nothing to say to this man.

"I'm proud of you," the father said, eager to try and get his son's approval. "You've become more than I ever thought you would."

Chuck lifted his head, and stared into this man's eyes, this man he did not know. This was not his father. It could not be. He killed Jill. Sarah, where are you? Sarah…

"You are going to stay with me. Forever. I will keep you safe. We can become like we were." Nicholas stared at his son, but the son said nothing. Impatience flashed in Nicholas's eyes, but he suppressed it. "I'll take you there now."

Chuck spoke, and the man froze. "Let me call someone."

"You know I can't let you do that."

"I won't tell them anything; I promise. Just let me say goodbye."

Father stared at son, evaluating him, arguing in his mind over what to do.

"Okay." Father paused. "Will you love me?"

Son could not say the words. Father understood. He unbound son's hands, and put a cell phone, on that was safe, and could not be traced, in the son's hands. "Be quick."

Chuck held the phone in his hands as his mind went crazy. Jill was dead. It was his fault. He was going to be held captive, either for the rest of his life or until he was brainwashed. Who should he call? He didn't know; his fingers did the dialing, and he held the phone up to his ear. It wasn't until Sarah answered that he knew who he had called.

"Hello," she said, in her beautiful, incomparable voice.

Chuck coughed, unable to get the words out. Nicholas watched from a corner, ready to spring into action if Chuck broke the rules.

"Chuck, is that you? Chuck?"

Chuck managed to cough out one word. "Sarah."

"Chuck, are you all right? Tell me where you are? I'll come for you."

"Sarah, you have to listen." Tears ran freely down his face.

"Chuck, where are you?"

"Listen, I don't have much time. Tell my family… tell them I love them."

"Why are you talking like this," she shrieked, and Chuck thought he could hear Casey in the background, asking what the hell was going on.

"You will never see me again." As Chuck spoke the words, it was like he was accepting them, and that weighed on him. It hurt him.

"Of course I will Chuck. Just tell me where you are!"

"Sarah," he wailed, so full of emotion that Sarah paused on the other end, and knew that she should listen, knew that Chuck believed this was the last time he would ever get to speak to her.

"Chuck?"

Nicholas pointed at the watch on his wrist, and Chuck crunched his face up. He just wanted to listen to her talk, hear her, but he didn't. He had to say what he had to say.

"I love you."

Silence met him on the other end. It was too much, you idiot, too much, he told himself. He wished he could kick himself. Then came her voice, small and fragile and broken and begging for Chuck to be there.

"I love you too."

A smile spread across Chuck's face as he forgot about where he was and what was going to happen to him. Sarah loved him. What could go wrong? Everything was great. He opened his mouth to speak when Nicholas knocked the phone away from his hands. Chuck stared up angrily, and stood up to punch his father, to tear into him, to kill him for taking Sarah away from him. He forgot his legs were still tied and he fell to the floor, hitting his head off the wall and knocking himself out once again.

"Chuck! Chuck!" cried Sarah's voice on the phone. Nicholas stepped on it, crushing it into little pieces. He leaned down, and put his face beside Chuck's.

"It's time to go." He picked up Chuck's limp body, and walked slowly up the stairs out of the tiny basement.


	6. Captivity

****

This was an interesting chapter to write; I hope you guys like it! Don't be afraid to tell me what you think; good or bad. Thanks... CNC

* * *

**Chapter Six - Captivity**

**One Day in Captivity**

The room was white. Chuck didn't think that it was a bad color, but a little bit of variety never hurt anyone. And combined with the bright white lights made his eyes burn, Chuck did not want to be here. He wanted to go home.

He had woke up here, with the last memory he had was of him charging his father in that basement. At first, due to the white blindess, Chuck wasn't sure if he had died and gone to heaven or not. A quick look around had dissuaded him of that notion. There was a bed in the middle of the room, with a toilet off in one corner, a sink in another, and a bookcase filled with books in the third corner. The last corner held a door. A locked door. Chuck had found that out soon after he had awoken. He had screamed for a while as well, until his exhaustion caught up with him and he had collapsed on the bed and fallen asleep again.

Awake now, he laid on the bed, and tried to do anything but think. Memories, he decided right then, were a curse. They were...

_Jill's throat slashed open, blood pouring out of it as his father laughed_

Chuck sat up on his bed, and stared straight ahead. He had to get that out of his head. He had too, or he would go crazy.

He wondered where his father was. Was he watching right now? Sitting back sipping a nice lemonade, thinking about the nice father son bonding that had gone on over the past two days? If he walked in now, Chuck would try to kill him. He would kill him. He had killed Jill. Nicholas had killed her, slit her pretty neck that Chuck used to cover with kisses...

Chuck scrunched up his legs under his chin and sat there, his head resting on his knees. What was he going to do? A crazy old man now knew where nuclear weapons were located, enough nuclear weapons to destroy the world. What was he going to do? Where was Sarah?

* * *

**Three Days in Captivity**

Chuck stared at the broken white plate laying in pieces by the door. He knew he was going to regret throwing it later, when the hunger kicked in, but right now, it felt good. He had almost hit the man who fed him. It was the same man who had came in with food for the past three days, three times a day. The first day, mad as he was, he was just as weak and hungry, and he had gobbled up the food. Turkey and gravey, he remembered. Then yesterday, he had built his stregnth up even more. Today, his anger had overcome his hunger, and he had chucked the plate at the man as he was walking out of...

_rope around the neck, getting tighter and tighter, squeezing harder and harder, pale face turning purple_

"DAMN IT," Chuck yelled as he stood up. He started pacing, back and forth, back and forth. She was dead. Dead! He couldn't stop it. She was dead. He wanted to die. He should die. He deserved death, for what he had done. He let her die. Sarah was dead. Sarah? No, not Sarah. Chuck laughed to himself. Jill, Jill had died. He put his hands up against a white wall. Maybe he was going crazy. He almost wished he would. Then he might be able to forget all these memories.

* * *

**Two Weeks in Captivity**

_The light from the fire was bright. Chuck could not look directly into the flames, or even go near it, due to the intensity of the flames, and how hot it was._

_"That's what happens when you drench the wood in lighter fluid," Jill said, a smile on her face as she sat in Chuck's lap, as the cuddled by the fire on a blanket in the middle of the woods._

_"Hey, if you want a woodsman for a boyfriend, transfer to WVU," Chuck laughed as he put a hand under her shirt and rubbed his hand over her stomach._

_Jill stood up, turned around, and sat down again on Chuck's lap, this time straddling him and putting her beautiful face mere inches away from his. She threw her arms around his neck, and whispered. "I've got all I could ever want right here."_

_Their lips met as they became one. Seconds became moments as their tongues teased one another, never wanting to stop. Chuck seperated from her just long enough to lift her shirt over head, and flip her over, so he was laying on top of her. Their noses were touching as Chuck softly spoke._

_"I love you."_

_"I love you more."_

_"I doubt that."_

_"Fine, Mr. Bartowski. Why don't we play a little game."_

_"I don't really like games, you know."_

_"First one to stop from exhaustion loses."_

_"That's a game I'm up for."_

_"I can tell. Or should I say, I can feel."_

_Chuck smiled as their lips met again. Rubbing his hands up and down her smooth body, he moved his lips down to kiss her neck. She moaned as Chuck continued._

_Chuck felt something wet on his lips. He stopped kissing her neck, and licked his lips. It tasted salty, and familar, but he couldn't put his mind on what it was. He heard her gasping, and his eyes made contact with hers. Her eyes were wide open, and it looked like she was having trouble breathing._

_"Jill, are you all right?"_

_A red line appeared across Jill's throat as she rushed her hands up to cover it. Chuck watched in horror, unable to do anything. Unable. The redness started leaking through Jill's fingers, and down her chest, onto her breasts. The gasping had stopped, and she was turning purple._

_"Jill! Jill! Are you all right?"_

_As the light went out of her eyes her hands fell away, and Chuck screamed at what he saw in the light of the fire..._

_... _and he screamed as he sat up in bed, his own hands around his throat. Panting, he sat there. Crying, he sat there. Wanting, he sat there.

* * *

**A Month, Two Weeks and Three Days in Captivity**

It was his fault. He knew it. Without him, Jill would have never been dragged into this mess. She would have lived, married, had kids. A horrible thought crossed Chuck's mind. Maybe she did have kids. He hadn't seen her in so long, she could have little babies at home. And Chuck had killed their mom. He had done it. He deserved to die. He wanted to die.

He was tired of this room that he had not been let out of in what seemed like a year. Tired of all the memories he saw everyday, replayed on the white walls like a movie projector. Tired of missing people, his family, his friends. Sarah. Oh God, how he wanted her there now. Why hadn't she found him?

_she didn't want to she didn't cause she doesn't want you she doesn't like the blood_

Where was she? Sarah. It was better that she stayed away. If she came, he would more than likely end up killing her too.

* * *

**Three Months, Three Weeks and Five Days in Captivity**

Today Chuck had heard the voice of God. It sounded remarkably like his father. It had came from the walls, and told him to lay in bed and look up. Look up at the white ceiling Chuck had already looked at for countless hours. Chuck obliged. If it was God, maybe God could kill him. That would be nice.

He had layed back, and looked up, and a picture shined on the wall. And for the first time in a very long time, Chuck flashed.

_a boy jumping rope  
a folder that had the words top secret printed on it  
a picture of a man dressed in jail stripes  
lots of money  
a map of a small town in Iowa  
a picture of another man  
the boy jumping rope redux_

God spoke again. He wanted to know what Chuck had saw. Chuck told him. Who was he to argue with God? God went away after that, even though Chuck prayed to him for a very long time. He wanted God to come back. He couldn't kill God, so God was not in any danger from him, like Jill had been, like Sarah was. He didn't want to be alone. God, where are you? Come back.

* * *

**Six Months, One Week and Six Days in Captivity**

Chuck was pacing around the room when he saw her. It was an angel. It was Sarah. Dressed in pure white, one long, flowing robe that danced with the wind, even though there was no wind in the room. Chuck didn't care. She would rescue him. His angel. His Sarah.

"Sarah," he asked as he walked towards her. "Sarah, is that you."

Sarah looked at him sadly, saying nothing.

"What's wrong? Are you here for me? Are you here to rescue me?"

Chuck's angel wiped a tear from her eyes.

"Are you all right? Sarah?" Chuck tried to walk closer to her, but no matter how much he walked, she stayed ten feet away. He started to run as he talked.

"Sarah, come to me. Get me. Save me!"

Sarah shook her head in denial.

"Sarah, I didn't mean to kill her. You have to believe me! I would never... you have to... please." Chuck's voice was pitiful, the sound of a man with only one care in the world, and that was to get Sarah's approval.

The angel ran her fingers through her hair, and continued to look sadly at Chuck.

"I know, I shouldn't make excuses. It was me! I did it! Leave me here, leave me in hell. If anyone ever belonged here, it's me. But please, forgive me. Please Sarah. Please."

Sarah just looked at him, and Chuck's heart broke again as he thought she would remain silent. Then as she opened her mouth, his heart stopped.

"It's all your fault."

Chuck's angel left, and he was alone again. Panting, panting once again from running so hard. On the floor, he sat. It was his fault. Sarah had said so. Jill. Dead. His fault. True. Time to die, if he wasn't already dead.

He bit down on his tongue, harder and harder, over and over again. He remembered his sister treating a man who had tried to commit sucide this way. He had almost succeeded. What was his sister's name? Jill? Was his sister dead too? He bit down harder, a new color being added to the white tile floor. Red. He bit down to go down, to end it all.

* * *

**Eight Months, Two Weeks and Two Days in Captivity**

Chuck's head was heavy. It took all his stregnth to lift it. Ever since his failed attempt to end his life, the man who brought the food in also brought a needle, and it took Chuck's stregnth away. It took whatever will he had left away. All he could do was lay on the bed, and think. Chuck hated thinking. He hated...

_Jill_

... memories. They were useless, and he wanted to forget them. He figured that if he stared at the white walls long enough, they would become memories, and if he could get enough of them stored up, they might be able...

_Sarah_

... to push out the bad ones.

_Blood_

Chuck closed his eyes. Everyone was dead. Was he dead? Who was he; he honestly didn't know. Names went through his head, pictures of people he thought he should know, but didn't. Who were they? What did they...

_Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah_

... want with him, of all people, whoever him was. If he didn't know who he was, how could anyone else possibly know.

He did know one thing. He was waiting for someone, waiting for them to come, or maybe come back; he wasn't quite sure. Waiting. Thinking. Wondering. Wanting, even if he didn't know it.

* * *

**One Year in Captivity**

The walls were white, there was no debating that. He was happy with the wall to his left, but the one to the right was not behaving. It was...

_like him_

...bad. Just like the third light on the ceiling to his left. When it spoke to him, it yelled at him. It needed to...

_just like him_

...die. But he didn't want to do it. The forth light on the right made up for the bad light on the left. It was his friend. Balance.

He fell asleep as he tried to count the tiles on the ceiling.


	7. Splintered

**Chapter Seven - Splintered**

A hard kick to the door made it slam open, and Casey grunted as it rebounded off the wall. They didn't make doors like they used too. Holding his pistol at his side he walked into the room, confident in his abilities. A man dressed in a white t-shirt and boxer shorts jumped out from behind a bookcase, waving an automatic weapon. One quick shot from Casey's gun silenced him forever. Casey examined the man's body as he walked by it. It was obvious from his dress that they were not prepared for this strike against them. As if anyone could ever be ready for what Casey was. Casey bent over, and removed a card key attached to a necklace from around the dead man's neck. Trent Dekcer was the man's name. From his clearance, he looked to be pretty far up in the pecking order at Blodo Corp. Close to Mr. Blodo himself.

Casey got up and headed for the next door, this time taking the extra moment to swipe the card. Avoiding detection would be nice, since this was a solitary mission. Add in the fact he had no clue where Blodo was, besides in this underground mansion somewhere, and Casey figured he could be here for a while.

The next room was empty, littered with an unmade bed and empty beer bottles. Going to swipe the card in the next door, he heard a noise behind him, and dove out of the way to avoid a bullet that would have gone through his head had he been a second slower. Casey swung his gun around towards the gunman as he was falling and emptied his clip at the figure, who promptly ran to their right as Casey fell to the floor. Casey's arm holding his gun was extended, and his hand hit a nightstand, sending his gun scattering off under the messy bed.

"Damn it," Casey muttered as the gunman approached him. This one had no shirt on, but sweatpants graced his legs. The man held his pistol out in front of him, and the gun was not shaking. This guy was a pro. He stopped when he was about five feet away from Casey, and smiled.

"This should get me a raise," the man said as his finger started to tighten around the trigger. In one quick move, Casey swung his legs to his right and took the man's feet out from under him, causing him to fall to the ground. Casey jumped up and delivered a haymaker to the left side of the man's face, then with both hands went after the gun. The enemy, dazed after the punch, still managed to hold onto the gun until Casey's knee made direct contact with the man's gut. Casey took the gun, whacked the man in the head with it, then stood up, staring at the moaning man on the floor.

The man looked up at him. "Please don't kill me. I have money, lots of money."

Casey grunted, then delivered two shots to each of the man's knees. The man cried in agony as Casey turned around, and stared into the face of the man he had come to kill.

Zach Blodo, an ex-American from Texas. Ran prostitution rings there and then decided that wasn't good enough, so he moved to South America and recruited business women, as he called them, to be in his company. Of course, that wasn't what had gotten him in the kind of trouble where the NSA was called in. He was funding a terrorist group, COLCOP. So he had to die.

Bloco was dressed in the one of the most expensive suits Casey had ever seen. He must have had a late meeting or something. The man was not armed, and eyes were spread wide in panic. The classic deer in the headlights look. As Casey slowly raised his gun towards the man's chest, Bloco's hands started going up, a defense mechanism. They went down when a red spot appeared through Bloco's clothes; red enough to match the man's tie. The job was done.

Beckman had set up a diversion outside the grounds to draw most of the security staff there; they had been expecting an attack, so at the first sign of trouble, they pounced on it, then Casey came in, and destroyed them in their weakened state. But he wanted to be gone before the majority of the security staff got back. He ran, dispersing three more guys on the way out to the rooftop, where a helicopter extracted him.

Up in the helicopter, he put on a headset. General Beckman was on the other side.

"Is it done?"

"Yes."

"Good job. The pilot has a plane ticket for you so you can get to your next area."

"Where would that be?"

"Los Angles."

Casey paused, thoughts running through his head. "Why do you want me to go back there?"

"It has been over one year since the Intersect was stolen from us, and his family has finally decided to try and get some closure. They are holding a funeral for him. His sister sent a letter to the P.O. box number you gave them asking for you to come and we think it would be wise if you went, for normal reasons. Okay?"

Casey did not answer until Beckman repeated his name a couple times. "Are you all right with this John?"

That knocked Casey out of his shocked state. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Good." Beckman logged off.

Casey stared out the window of the helicopter as it flew the winds. Memories came flooding back in, feelings, memories and feelings he had, or at least tried to, repress. He had spent three months helping Walker try and find Chuck, until Beckman decided he would be more useful in the field. To be honest, Casey was glad when he was reassigned. He had never been so emotionally involved in a mission before. He was no where near the compromised level, he thought to himself, but Chuck was… different.

So Casey had left, and it had been nine months since he had been to LA. Walker had been there all nine of those months. She had gotten herself appointed head of the joint effort between the CIA and NSA to track down the nuclear weapons that were stolen. Walker was sure that the thefts of the weapons and Chuck's disappearance were linked, and if she could find the nukes, she would find Chuck. It was a nice theory, but the evidence was circumstantial. But she wouldn't give up on it. Casey had actually called her a few times to check up on how the investigation was going, but it had been two and a half months since their last talk. He supposed he would see her there, at the funeral. The funeral.

It kicked in then. Chuck was dead. The boy did not deserve to die. He was a good person. Casey stared out the window, wishing he had never heard of Chuck Bartowski.

* * *

The restaurant was crowded, with it being reservation only. Sarah wondered how Bryce had managed to get them into it on such short notice. She told the waitress she was with a Bryce Larkin, and the lady led her to a table for two in the corner of the dimly lit building. Two glasses of wine were already on the table, but no Bryce. Sarah sat down and took a sip of the wine. It was good, whatever it was. She needed to get drunk. Maybe she could forget the past year.

It had been rough. Sarah had always been a field agent, but now she was a paper agent. Casey had worked with her for a while until Beckman pulled him out. She was almost reassigned to mission work as well, but she had begged Graham for hours until he conceded, and let her head up the investigation of the stolen nuclear weapons. She was sure the two cases were connected, along with the disappearance of Chuck's old girlfriend, Jill. The pieces fit together, but there was no picture yet. And Sarah wasn't sure there would ever be. Sarah closed her eyes, heavy with make up hiding dark shadows, and thought about him. She thought about him a lot. He was alive, she was sure. She would find him.

Over the past year, she had avoided thinking about her feelings for him, and concentrated on finding him. Thinking about how she felt didn't get anything done, except making her feel sad. Sadder than she already felt. Sleep had been hard to come by the past year; though what little she got was better then being awake. She felt as though there was a hand squeezing her heart at all times.

Her phone rang, and she reached into her purse to pull it out. It was Graham. In a hushed tone, she talked, but mostly listened. Her face fell, and in short order she put the phone back in her purse.

They were having Chuck's funeral? Why would they do that? There was no body, no proof that he was dead, or even harmed in anyway. And she would have to go back there for the funeral. Where it had all happened; where it had all taken place. Where he had been. She groaned, picked up the wine glass, and downed it.

"Keep doing that and we can have some real fun tonight." Bryce sat down across from her, smiling and looking dashingly handsome in his tux. Sarah gave him a quick smile before looking down with a blank look on her face. Bryce frowned.

"Don't tell me you are still hung up over Chuck. He was a mission. People fail missions all the time."

Sarah looked up, angry. "He was your best friend! How can you talk about him like that?"

Bryce seemed to realize his mistake, and quickly covered. "I'm just trying to help you. You have to move on. Now tell me, what is bothering you. It can't just be Chuck missing. What's up?"

Sarah glanced up at him, eyes full of emotion. "Chuck's family is holding a funeral for him."

Bryce's eyes got wide. "Are you going?"

"I leave as soon as I can. Which leads to why I am here. What lead do you have for me?"

Bryce looked at her, a guilty look on his face. "I really didn't have a lead, I just wanted to see your pretty face."

Sarah stood up, grabbing her purse. "Thanks a lot. I could have used this time to be tracking him down, finding him, saving him…" she cut off, too emotional to continue. Bryce stood, and embraced her. She went willingly into his arms.

"Shh," he whispered into her ear. "You need someone to take care of you, hold you. I'm here for you."

Sarah didn't answer, but didn't protest when Bryce sat her down and asked the waitress to bring a whole bottle of wine to the table.

"We'll make you feel better tonight," he said, smile on his face.

Sarah didn't protest; she was too weak.

* * *

Bryce fumbled with the key card to his hotel room as he tried to hold Sarah up straight. She used to hold alcohol much better then this, but he was glad she was tipsy tonight.

"I need to go to my room, and get ready," she said, half-aware of what she was doing. "I'm leaving for Chu… for Chuck's tomorrow."

"You're staying with me," Bryce said firmly. "You're drunk."

"Because of you," she said, punching him in the arm. Bryce didn't answer. He popped the door open and led her to his bed. She sat down on it, kicking off her shoes, as she looked ready to pass out. Last a little bit longer Sarah, Bryce said to himself as he took off his suit coat and dress shirt. He walked over to Sarah, and sat down behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders, and started rubbing her back. Sarah moaned as he worked on her back. God, was she beautiful. And she was receptive to his advances. Of course, the wine and the depression had some to do with it, but Bryce figured most of it was him, and his charm. Really, it had been a year. She was obsessed.

"Hey baby, I could make your back feel even better if you got rid of the dress."

* * *

Afterwards, lying in bed running his hand down Sarah's naked back as she slept, Bryce smiled. She was great, damn great, even when she was plastered. He was hoping for another round in the morning. He wondered what time her plane took off for LA.

LA. Bryce laughed. They thought Chuck was dead. They didn't know he was with his daddy. Dear old daddy. Bryce smirked. That man was evil, doing that to his own son. Bryce had visited once, to use the Intersect, and it had worked. He had seen Chuck. Chuck was no longer a person; he was a tool. A useful tool.

Bryce shoved Sarah over to the other side of the bed before falling asleep.

* * *

A man appeared over his face, disturbing his view of the lights. The man looked familiar. He spoke in a deep voice.

"It's good to see you son."

The man on the bed continued to stare up, unblinking, unmoving. The man who had called him son looked over at someone else.

"How long do you think he will be in this state?"

"It's impossible to say. If you had taken better care of him…"

Don't patronize me. Chuck is my son."

Hearing the word Chuck, the man on the bed blinked. Chuck. He was Chuck, he thought. He felt like he could know a lot of stuff, if only he could get there. He almost had it, but it was just out of reach. His father spoke to Chuck again.

"It's time to get you up. We need to go to LA. Time to set up some nukes." The man smiled and walked away.

Chuck thought, thought about real things for the first time in a long time. So he was Chuck. Who was Chuck? He would find out, he was sure he would. But for now, something was telling him to stay still. Don't let him know that you are awake. Don't move, don't talk. Don't show yourself. Stay still.

Chuck thought about his name. He liked it. He decided to name the good light Chuck.


	8. Death And Rebirth

**A/N Sorry about the wait on this one guys. It's been a while, this was started after the end of Season One, so I guess you could say this is almost AU now. :)**

* * *

The casket was empty. A picture of Chuck hung behind it, his goofy smile contrasting the mood of everyone in the graveyard. Casey grunted as he shifted forward, the line moving on. Everyone had brought an item, or a note to leave in the casket, since Chuck's body hadn't been found. In Casey's hand was a picture of the two of them, a picture that fool Morgan had snapped without his knowledge. It wasn't much, but it was all he had, and it meant something to him. That was part of the reason why he had to get rid of it.

Looking forward, he saw Morgan placing a whole gaming system into the casket; Casey was pretty sure it was one of those Game Boxes, or whatever it was they were called. The little man was broken, tears freely flowing down his cheeks. Ellie, who was standing beside the casket the entire time, wrapped Morgan in a hug. She wasn't crying. Casey thought she was beyond tears at this point.

The Major heard a noise behind him and he turned around. It was Walker. It had been months since he had seen her. She didn't look good. Her eyes were red and dead. She carried an folded up piece of paper with her that she was gripping, knuckles white with pressure. He nodded at her but she stared through him, at the picture of Chuck.

It was their turn to visit the casket. Casey placed the picture in it gently, trying really hard not to think about the man who was in it with him. Tears were falling from Walker's eyes and for once Casey didn't have the heart to reprimand her. Ellie and her hugged, and Walker gripped the side of the casket for support. She slowly put the letter she had written in the casket.

"I love you," he heard her whisper. After that, she quickly turned around and walked away. Casey, after a quick hug from Ellie, followed. He couldn't stay here any longer.

Casey walked Walker to her car. He wanted to say something to her, but not being a man of many words to begin with, it was hard. He hoped this would be closure enough for her, but how could it be, when it wasn't for him? The mission felt incomplete, and Major John Casey always finished the job. She turned around to look at him, blue eyes piercing his, when both of their phones suddenly went off. Casey pulled his out of his pocket. It was Beckman. And from the look on Walker's face, she had gotten the same text. It looked like it wouldn't be a quick trip to Los Angles after all.

* * *

Chuck didn't like the motion. He wasn't used to it. He missed his friends, the lights. He even missed the tile the made fun of him all the time. He wanted to go back. But the man who said he was his father wouldn't let him. His father was talking again. Chuck had been blocking it out. This guy wasn't nearly as interesting as his old friends in the white room. What was he saying?

"... so that's why I need your help, son." He was sitting facing Chuck in the back of the van. "I can't activate the bombs without you. Do you understand?"

Chuck had stopped listening after the word activate. He wondered why he felt so empty. He hated it.

All of a sudden, Chuck was thrown sideways in the van as he heard a loud crash. The entire van was thrust to the right, rolling over, debris from the car that had slammed into the side of it flying, dangerous metal piercing the seat around where Chuck had been sitting. Chuck grimaced, tears forming in his eyes. His arms was in a lot of pain. He was pretty sure it was broken.

Looking around, the man who said he was his father was no where to be seen. Chuck just wanted to get out of this scary place, and a burst of light coming from where the driver's side of the van had been gave him hope. He crawled over to it, metal ripping through his skin and clothes, giving him little cuts he ignored. Arms in front of him, he wriggled his way out of the death trap, and felt water on his face. Looking up in the sky, avoiding all the buildings around him, ignoring his father's unconscious body on the side of the street, he started laughing. It was raining, and it was wonderful. He took off running down the street, with all the cares of a three year old child.

People stared at him as he passed, a grown man in a hospital type gown, cut to shreds. He didn't care. He passed shops with TV's in the windows, and in one, there was an advertisment for an Xbox game. Xbox. That word was familar to him. Why though? Chuck continued to walk, seeing a serviceman in uniform walk by him. Call of Duty sprang into his mind. Morgan. Chuck shook his head, trying to clear up all the images that were rushing into it. Eyes closed, he ran into someone.

"Sorry," he muttered, opening his eyes, and then staring in shock.

"No problem," said the woman he had run into. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes. Chuck's chest was tight; he felt like he couldn't breathe. The word Sarah shot into his mind, along with an image of her. He flashed without the Intersect.

"Sarah." Saying it out loud made it real, somehow. He still wasn't sure what Sarah was, but the way his heart felt when he said it made him... odd. Sarah was better than his favorite light back in the white room!

Chuck sat down on the curb, thinking. Intersect. Ellie. There was another good word. Suddenly, he became aware of someone standing over him. It wasn't the blonde woman from before, nor the man who had said he was his father. It was an older man with gray hair.

"Hello," Chuck said. "Who are you?"

The old man smiled. "I'm glad I managed to track you down after that car crash, Charles Bartowski. I was afraid you were dead, or lost. My name is Alexei Volkhoff, and I am here to help you."

Chuck didn't hear anything after the word Bartowski. He stood up, rain dripping from his long hair into his eyes, smile on his face. He held his arms in the air and yelled "My name is Chuck Bartowski! I am Chuck Bartowski!"


End file.
